White Smoke

By Nikhil Mahajan

Virat studies in a renowned boarding school in Shimla. But behind the façade of a happy teenager is a disturbed child trying to fight the pain of his mother’s death and his father’s ignorance. Neither love nor friends seem to be of any help. That’s when he finds a picture in a library book, which changes his life forever.
In trying to find the truth behind the girl in the picture, he stumbles upon dirty secrets and a scandal that shocks him.
Meanwhile in Delhi, a CID officer and Police Inspector Mathur are trying to unravel the mystery behind the gruesome murders of two influential families that seem to be connected to the mysterious girl in the picture.
Will Virat be able to find the mysterious girl or lose himself on the way?
Discover the chilling reality of life, friendship, love and deceit behind the curtain of White Smoke.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Srishti Publishers
• Release date: Jun 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9789382665953

Book preview

WHITE

SMOKE

By the same author

My Love Never Faked...

As Long As I Love You

A Little Love Incident

Oh Yes! All Men are Dogs

WHITE

SMOKE

NIKHIL MAHAJAN

Srishti

Publishers & Distributors

Srishti Publishers & Distributors

Registered Office: N-16, C.R. Park

New Delhi – 110 019

Corporate Office: 212A, Peacock Lane

Shahpur Jat,New Delhi – 110 049

[e-mail]

First published by

Srishti Publishers & Distributors in 2017

Copyright © Nikhil Mahajan, 2017

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

This is a work of fiction. The characters, places, organisations and events described in this book are either a work of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to people, living or dead, places, events, communities or organisations is purely coincidental.

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the Publishers.

Printed and bound in India

Dedicated to the girl who narrated

this story to me in my dream…

Acknowledgements

I would like to say thanks to my Bade Papa who strengthened my thoughts and lent his unconditional support; my readers, since they cherished my work and inspired me to keep writing. I owe it to my critics, who are the real friends, a hearty thanks to all who truly make my efforts worthwhile by their constructive criticism.

I would like to thank my sweet li’l girlfriend, who is always in my thoughts as she inspires me to keep writing, and yes, it is because of her that I am a writer today.

Now this is really tough. Although the list is not really long, I have tried my best to acknowledge everyone who has helped me write this novel. I would like to thank my mates Akhil and Shshank for constantly supporting, encouraging and motivating me.Thanks to Amit,Aman, Jai, Pawandeep, Sunil and Varun for being there; they are more like family than just friends.

Thanks Vikram for all the gyaan, you have always been a great help.You were the one who guided me towards the right way when I hit a blind end. It was you who gave me the idea of a case study, which lent the story its credible edge.

I’d like to thank my first editor, Bina Biswas, for the book edits – mending it, polishing it and coming up with the best. Aarti Motiani, for the final edits, as she patiently went through the successive first edits and made constructive suggestions along with finalizing the script.

Words would not be enough to describe this special friend Priyanka Dey, for brainstorming this project and giving me new ideas and a vision to write this thriller. I owe my work to Ankita Mahajan, Aniket Kapoor, Gaurav Chawla, Jenny Chawla and Prashant Gandhi.

Thanks to all those who discouraged me, thus in a way strengthening me.

If you wish to know more about me or share your thoughts on the story, do write to me at [e-mail].

Virat and Payal

The sky was an amalgam of ruby red and orange, highlighting the day end. There was an extensive crowd at the station, but Virat’s eyes were fixed on the swollen black clouds that were slowly building up, darkening the sky and blotting out the burning sun. An abrupt shower as the sky opened up, turned the grey black backdrop of the city to light grey and everybody appeared uplifted. Virat tried to mull over the scenario a zillion times, but he could not possibly comprehend the beauty of the whole scene because he was deadened that day and had been suffering a personal crisis.Virat’s girlfriend, Payal was not happy with their relationship and was leaving peacefully without giving him even a slightest hint of sadness and pain.This particular gesture of hers irked him. It was the cruelest and the most humiliating moment of his life. They both were like soul-mates. Moreover, she had supported him during his bad times ever since he was fifteen. He did not want to lose her.

I fear this relationship no longer exists. We seem to be on a balancing rock, watching from either side. The balance is not correct, and so is the relationship. This is like a burden on me, killing me mercilessly with every passing second. Her abrupt negative reply, tinged with a certain amount of cynicism, wasn’t ambiguous or even polite in any way.

I must apologize, but I will now have to leave you to yourself, she added and Virat knew that his life was going to change.

No, don’t… Please don’t leave me like this.What would I do, where would I go? She did not even look at him in the eyes.

Please… he pleaded with pain in his heart. But it seemed that she had skirmishes of her own, though nothing as substantial as a deep or meaningful relationship.

With this, they parted ways…

His cries echoed in his mind as he let out another sigh. He was standing on the crowded platform with his bags packed, waiting for the train to arrive. He stood amidst the crowd of unknown faces busy chatting, fighting or simply overlooking all else and hurrying towards their destination. But today, he had to wait. He had to gulp this venom, bear this rough, hard-biting pain deep in his chest.The pain of being left alone.

The train halted and a door slid opened. He stood in front of the open door as people gushed in, pushing him aside as if they were pushing a lifeless entity.After a few seconds, the doors closed and the train started moving again. He stood rooted at the platform. And he realized this world was not fit for him.

She boarded the train a few doors ahead. He saw her, perhaps for the last time, perhaps not. His heart paused at the failing hope, and then he turned around and walked towards the exit.

One day you will realize what you have lost, and when that day comes, you will come running and crying to me, begging on your knees, just like I begged you not to destroy our relationship. But, by then, I will have moved on and will have the guts to break your heart the way you broke mine, he said to himself, the words of self-consolation.

As he reached the other part of the station, he looked at the exit sign, and stood there on the platform.The pain dug deeper inside. The pain of a mangled love. He stood there for a while, not accepting the thought. The thought of accepting his defeated self, the thought of his defeat against his fight with his pain, the thoughts swirled towards the end unconsciously. He started walking towards the other end. He waited for another train to pass and suddenly he did what his comatose mind ordered. He compromised his body over his heart. He jumped! The fast moving train crushed his body into a mangled heap.

Virat, wake up!

The warden woke him up with a hard twitch. Feeling tired, he slept for a couple of minutes more. He felt worse than he had felt in the dream when he woke up. He glanced at the time, and realized he had only twenty minutes to get to class, which included a ten minutes’ walk. He had slept soundly with the dope he had last night and was again late to school like rests of his days. He had suffered a massive psychological damage. Such dreams haunted him every day and he was now used to these terrible nightmares. He was as usual late for class. He huffed, panted, retched, reaching his destination only to find he had misread the tick-tock. It felt like an hour of fretting. Wasting no time and with no interest in attending class, he entered the school building and went towards the hall. It was in the school’s curriculum. The teachers were supposed to tell them their marks and give them suggestions that day.Virat entered and took the last seat in the hall. He had made it just in time as his roll number was hardly a few numbers away.

Why don’t you study,Virat? You have failed in your internal exams again, the class teacher shouted in front of everybody with his answer sheets in her hand.

And the same is repeating again… the teacher went on mercilessly, and he felt like having been crucified. His body could not take such criticism. He was smitten by this global shame.

Do you understand? You won’t be able to write your final examinations if you do not pass the last internal exam, said the teacher who had turned very unsympathetic towards him as she could see that he was not at all interested in listening to her.

Virat was never a dull student, but he was in extreme pain; a pain that he could not discuss with anyone. He knew that he had no interest studying commerce but his father had forced him hard to study it and then join their family business. He could not disclose his thoughts to anyone, hence he never broke the silence.

We have to call your father, said his ma’am in front of the whole class as an act of insult. There was nothing in this world Virat would fear more than his father being called for his mistakes. It was not his father’s reputation that he wanted to preserve, but he did not want to see him again. He was struck by a thunderbolt as his teacher shouted the final decision.

You know how much your father loves you? He sent you here in this reputed school, which you do not deserve, just because he wanted to see you rise in your life and be a better person, the teacher continued saying the same thing to every culprit.

He wants you to study hard and be successful in your life, and look at you… this is how much you respect him! she kept on scolding him, waving the answer sheets like a fluttering flag in her hand.

You failed in every semester and this is your final chance, because your board exams are next, and if you fail, trust me, we won’t be able to help you, she flatly declared and threw the answer sheets aside roughly.

The hall was empty and the crowd had trooped away.Virat took a chance and went to the staff room to beg the teacher not to call his father, but she was not ready to help him anymore. He knew that he could not convince her, so he went back to class. He could not concentrate anymore as his teacher’s words kept haunting him, hurling him back into the past.

A few years back…

Virat was quite aware of the long, lonely nights that awaited him. He knew that his conscience would be burdened by the silence about the known betrayal and disloyalty of